“All right. I’ll have a couple of my men start talking with the neighbors to see if anyone saw the perp.” He went over to a squad car parked two houses down, holding a consultation with the two officers. He pointed to the back of the Collins house, one of the men nodded and headed up a neighbor’s driveway toward the alley.
“Since the perp tossed the firebomb through the back window,” Hardin said when he returned, “one of the officers will interview your neighbors across the alley.” He looked at Quinn. “You okay?”
“Damn. Yeah. Just a headache.”
Hardin glanced around, whistled loudly, beckoning when an EMT turned his way. The woman came over, listening as Hardin told her Quinn had fractured his skull three days ago and had a headache. Ignoring Quinn’s protests, she took him back to the ambulance to examine him.
When Brent started to follow, Hardin stopped him. “He’ll be more honest with them if he’s not trying to put up a front for your sake.”